Damage Control
by DownWithJack8
Summary: All those rumors circulating around in fifth year regarding Harry's lack of sanity-what if he decided to take advantage of them to get back at Umbridge in the most annoying way possible? Or maybe he really is losing it...
1. Chapter 1

I know if I were in Harry's shoes during his fifth year, I would have milked those crazy accusations until I lost my sanity for real. Oh, the wasted potential!

Damage Control

"My dear child, from whom would children, such as yourselves, need to defend themselves against?" Asked Umbridge, in a tone that clearly indicated she was unaware her students were teenagers and not five-year-olds. The Slytherins smirked, those naughty cynical buggers being more than aware of the many dangers facing children in this world.

Harry could not help himself. Well, maybe he _could_, but unfortunately he did not know he needed help-ah, obliviousness. "Uh… you _do_ know that children, over time, become adults, right?" He paused here for dramatic effect. "And adults _do _need to know how to defend themselves against all sorts of…_stuff_." He said matter-of-factly, finishing off with an ominous warning. "Plus, well…I hate to bring down a fog of awkwardness and despondency but, haven't you ever heard of-", he dropped his voice to a whisper, "-_pedophiles_?"

For a moment Umbridge was speechless and horrified; but she got over it remarkably quickly, as any sociopath feigning compassion would do. "Oh…tch, tch, tch. You poor disturbed child. I understand that you have a lot of anger, but I am your professor, and I can't allow you to speak so disrespectfully to me." She smiled a sweet, sympathetic little smile at him. It looked horribly gross.

"I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, sir. I was merely offering some insight; obviously you mistakenly believed that one, children are completely safe in this world; and two, children never become adults. Really, I wouldn't want you to go through life looking like a fool." He bit half of his bottom lip and puppy-dogged his eyes; typically this was the picture of innocence, but at his age it suggested insanity and cheek.

Umbridge, who was well acquainted with false facial expressions, was unmoved. "That's it Mr. Potter; get up to the front of the class; you will apologize to me for what you said and to the class for wasting their time."

"Okay, fiiine." He got up and trudged to the front of the classroom.

He stood facing the class. He saw satisfied smirks, grimaces from his friends (all three of them), and a few maniacally sneering faces which rather scared him. He was not very popular amongst his peers these days.

"I'm sorry that I seem to know more about biology than you professor-"

"Try again, Mr. Potter." Cut in Umbridge's disgustingly sweet voice.

He let out a ridiculously loud sigh-which sounded like a large quadruped giving birth, it was quite obnoxious really. "I don't see how you could possibly expect anything normal or proper from me when you're so convinced I'm insane and delusional. I mean really, what is this 1820? You're not supposed to ostracize and torture a pupil with emotional issues; you are supposed to be supporting me and trying to get me help. What the hell is wrong with you people? Why do I not get sympathy after what I saw last year? WHY WON'T YOU BE NICER TO ME?"

"That is quite enough from you-" Umbridge began sounding harassed. She was cut off by Harry's pathetically and completely un-heroic whiny voice.

"I'm just a girl, standing in front a room full of people, asking them…to love me!" He cried hysterically. Afterward he scanned the room for reactions to his dramatic declaration. Several wide eyes blinked back at him, some students' eyebrows were scrunched so close the students' eyes seemed to disappear. One lone Neanderthal-like Slytherin boy snickered mockingly.

Harry glanced at his friends. They looked stuck between laughter and worry, agonizingly waiting to see if their friend would show signs of having been joking.

And so he showed that he was indeed joking, unfortunately he did this by falling to his knees in hysterical barking laughter. They too laughed out of loyalty, trying their bestest to make it seem like one big joke they were all in on. Harry's guffaws quickly faded into breathless sobs of laughter.

The students looked to their teacher for protection, but she could only look back at them at a loss. Suddenly Harry stopped laughing abruptly-too abruptly to be considered normal. He stood up calmly.

"May I be excused?" he asked his teacher politely as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You should go to the Hospital Ward, immediately." Replied Umbridge who sounded quite ready to _stupefy_ Harry need be. The women even clutched her wand protectively at her side.

"Pssh! It's Hospital _Wing_ you silly goose-pimple." Harry corrected condescendingly. Despite his disrespectful answer, he obediently pranced out of the room without grabbing any of his things or awaiting a response. His confused schoolmates watched him go with gaping mouths; Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

Harry entered the Hospital Wing and sat on the furthest bed to the left. Noticing the absence of the nurse, he bounced three times then hopped off and crawled under the cot. He proceeded to curl up like a jumbo shrimp and giggle like a little girl.

After a time of this, he heard the tapping of practical nursing shoes.

He saw the hem of a burgundy robe and worn old world boots stop before the bed. The Madame bent down to see whom that little girl was that was giggling beneath the hospital bed.

When she saw that it was Harry, she stared at him in disbelief. _Disbelief_ because she had yet to see to or evaluate his mental/emotional state despite the reports in the _Newspaper_ that stated he was disturbed and delusional, or at the very least unhealthily desperate for attention. Apparently, in the world of magic people sometimes believe the _news_ and sometimes they…just…don't. One can surmise this as acceptable being as _news_in the magic world is not restricted by frivolous things like _truth _or, pfft, _facts._

The Madame grabbed the boy's hair-after all, in the magic world teachers and staff are allowed to physically and verbally abuse the students**-**and dragged him from beneath the cot. She plopped him non-too-gently unto it.

Harry took the physical abuse in stride; the poor neglected whelp knew nothing of normal behavior and so allowed anyone to do anything they wanted to him. Snape last year tore a tendon in his neck when trying to stop him and Ron from talking. Dumbledore pat him a little too hard on the back-cracked his collarbone he did, Uncle-dearest threw him into the hall, and there was something about a frying pan in the face. The list goes on and on.

She plopped him on the bed, where he curled up in the fetal position and fell asleep. Madame Pomfrey decided to let poor, pitiful, skinny, abused, abnormal (not because he's a wizard, mind you, _but_ _because he just is!)_ sickly, pale, eye bag carrying, yet still somehow apparently sexy to his overzealous fans Harry sleep his crazy away. 

End, For now 

I picture Harry as very much like Fluttershy ("You're going to LOVE ME!")

I can see him screaming that even in canon,_ book_ canon of course.


	2. Snape

Snape…Enough Said

"Today you will be breaking down potions to reveal their ingredients. This is quite easy for anyone with adequate intelligence; so unfortunately the majority of you will find this assignment to be extremely difficult." Snape lazily declared as he glided into the classroom. In the stifling silence of the classroom, a ripple of annoyance went through the students as their most disliked professor insulted their intelligence.

Today's potions class was starting out just as all the others when a sudden booming laughter echoed off the walls. Even Snape jumped at the abrupt noise, though of course his visage remained stoic and unchanged. Weirdo.

The students and teacher were searching for the source of the laughter; not too surprisingly, they found Harry Potter laughing hysterically to the point where he was falling about his desk partners. He held his chair to keep from falling unto the floor as he clutched his stomach and gasped as his boisterous laughter died.

After panting dramatically, he addressed his irritated teacher. "Oh, professor. That was hilarious." He chuckled some more. "You're so droll!"

Snape looked blankly down at Harry; clearly, he was most unimpressed and not at all flattered by Harry's sort-of compliment. "Mr. Potter, I have been informed of your outburst yesterday; and I will have you know that I will not tolerate misbehavior from you. If you simply cannot keep what little sense you have together, than I suggest you go back to Hospital Wing, where you can be properly restrained."

"Wow, you sure so like to talk, don't you?" Harry observed.

"Silence!" Snape barked.

"Sorry, sir. My bad, sir."

Harry received an elbow in the ribs form one of his friends. Whether it was the know-it-all whose purpose was to discover facts that allowed Harry to accomplish all of his achievements or the one who was there for comic relief, yet strangely wasn't all that funny, he didn't care to find out.

Catching on he gestured closing a zipper over his lips to show the Professor he was ready to behave. Ha.

"Now then, here are your vials. Use any or all of the materials listed on the board to discover their properties. Of course nothing can be as useful as your own senses, namely sight and smell. WHAT NOW?" The hand gesturing to a cluster of empty vials clenched angrily when Snape saw Harry's hand creep into the air.

"May I be excused?" Harry asked softly.

"You know there are no bathroom breaks during this class." Snape dismissed him.

"I know. Don't have. To use. The bathroom. I just really don't want to do this assignment." Harry stared at Snap with his head slightly cocked, a sweet and friendly smile on his face.

"Every student must participate in this project; no one may just be _excused from it._ Unless of course you wish me to fail you for the entire year right now?" Snape asked with a sneer.

To his horror, (well the annoyed kind of horror, not the scared kind horror), Harry's face instantly morphed to resemble a kicked puppy and tears began to well in his eyes.

"Gosh. I, I , I…I just asked a questioooooon." He whined before wailing like a five year old. Snape's sympathy was…nonexistent, and his annoyance was way off the chart- completely beyond normal human level. Yes indeed; his annoyance was in the bitter, lonely, aging, pretentious, hates-adolescents-yet-is-forced-to-work-with-them and (most frightening) _British _man level. _The_. Highest. Level.

Harry's ginger friend had become absolutely magenta-colored from mortification. It felt as though every eyeball mockingly watching the bawling boy beside him was actually trained on him. He was clearly trying very hard not to look anywhere else but his desk; the combined awkwardness of his friend's open display of emotion and the embarrassment of so many eyes rendering him utterly even more useless than usual. His eyes grew shockingly wide and his whole body seemed to stiffen when his friend grabbed on to him and proceeded to cry loudly into his shoulder.

To the contrary, Snape became impossibly more sufficient when faced with remarkable and ridiculous situations. He stretched his hand out and a piece of parchment flew over which he snatched quite a bit too roughly out of the air. A quill was pulled out of his robes, which made many students' foreheads crinkle in question—though they dared not ask where he had stashed it.

He jotted down a quick note then walked over to hand it to Potter, he was careful to not touch the boy's hand and retracted his arm in case the Potter spawn decided he was in a hand-holding mood. Children's hands were always mysteriously sticky.

"You will go to the Headmaster and give him this message. Do not read it."

Harry smiled innocently through his tear-streaked face as he cradled the note like an injured bird. He looked up at Snape with his big green eyes. "Will you hold me?"

"Get out."

Unhampered, Harry shrugged and pranced out.

Once outside, Harry read the note.

'_Unsurprisingly, this young man was disrupting my class with his mental malfunctions and deficiencies. I realize the student in question is infallible but regardless, I thought you would want to know your little protégé is quickly becoming undone._

_-Professor Snape'_

"What a boob." Harry stated in a suspiciously un-whiny and rational tone.

He crinkled up the note and shoved it down the front of his pants. He thought it would be fun to play find the wad of paper with his Headmaster. Then he pictured the Headmaster's old man hands-all wrinkled and claw-like and liver-spotted. No, that would not be fun. It would be worse than the time he asked that Italian boy from the Snakey-snakey-slither house to play hide the Italian sausage with him and he unexpectedly agreed. Slytherins were not to be trusted with feelings and such; not at all-poopmeisers.

Oh, look. His mental ramblings have led us to the Headmaster's office without a pathetic fail at producing imagery of people, statues, or other images he would have passed on the way and from having to guess at where the hell the office is.

Oh, look, those boring excuses have led him past the Gargoyle into the stairwell, effectively saving the reader from having to read about Harry naming a thousand different candies to get to the password. There is a god after all.

Upon seeing Harry enter his office, Dumbledore's face took on an expression that could only be described as 'having just been cock-blocked'. "Well, hello there Harry; what brings you here to my private office during classes when I cannot avoid or ignore you without being completely obvious?"

"That's Ms. Potter to you my good man." Harry corrected.

Dumbledore peered at Harry with his stupidly unfathomable eyes. "Oh…kay then. My apologies, Ms. Potter."

Harry inclined his head politely. "You're forgiven. Now, I have a parchment piece for you. A note if you will. To you from a certain Severus Snape. You know him right?"

"Don't be silly Harr-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Harry sang airily.

The Headmaster forced a patient smile. "Sorry, _Ms._ Potter. Don't be silly. Give the note over."

Harry held out the note. "Here. Take it. **Take it**!"

The headmaster, who was already unfolding the wad of paper, eyeballed Harry as if he were very confused-which was fitting, as Harry could be very confusing.

He unwrinkled the note. His eyes widened behind his uselessly halved eyeglasses.

"This note…says…'_guess who had their sausage in my patte last night'_."

"Oh. How mortifying." said Harry, whose impassive face and voice showed no signs of embarrassment whatsoever. "That note was meant for Nancy Drew, I mean Hermione. Sorry sir."

Harry snatched back the note as if angry that the Headmaster had stolen it. He stuffed it down the front of his pants. When he retracted his hand another piece of parchment was in it.

"Here, this must be the one from Snapey-Snape."

The headmaster looked flabbergasted. The portraits of past Headmasters looked flabbergasted; except for one who was laughing quite hard. He must have been a Gryffindor-as theirs was the only one of the four one-dimensional personality types that would allow such thoughtless, brash, and not-too-polite behavior.

"Right then. If you could just lay it flat on the table for me. Wait! I'll put down this napkin first."

"Understandable, sir." Harry said as the Headmaster unfolded a handkerchief.

"It's a sad, sad day when Dumbledore is the only one who's making any sense," said one portrait.

"Now then, ah, yes. 'Mental malfunctions'. I don't doubt it." He folded his hands together over his desk and placed his chin on top. "I assume you had an outburst in class, is that correct."

"That is somewhat correct." Harry said shiftily.

"What do you mean by somewhat?"

"I actually had several 'outbursts'" Harry put finger quotes around outbursts. "Although, I think you need to hear my side of the story."

"Proceed."

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Proceed with telling your side of the story."

Harry gave Dumbledore a weird look, as if he was the one acting crazy in this situation. "…Well, first Snapey-poo said something that was really funny, you know how proficient he is with the dry humor, so I laughed. Then he was all, blah blah, bitterness, blah something about senses. The second time he was using all these words, so I commented that he likes to talk—which _clearly _must be true-and he just got all mad and _stuff. _Then I asked if I could be excused and he was like _no I'm going to fail you!_So that made me cry, because really, it was only a question and there was no need for the harshness. Then he abused a piece of parchment before writing on it and sent me down here with it. Plus he pulled a quill from somewhere out of his robes. It was unexpected."

Dumbledore stared dumbfounded at Harry. "I'm sorry my boy, I stopped processing anything you said after '_Snapey-poo_'.

This seemed to upset Harry; he narrowed his eyes at his mentor. "Um, first of all, I'm not a boy; second, I'm not yours." Harry said in a very condescending manner.

Dumbledore once more scrutinized Harry with his freak-show eyes; he looked torn between amusement and sadness. "Is there anything-?"

"If you finish that with 'you wish to tell me'…_I'ma mess you up_." Harry threatened, taking on some unidentifiable and ridiculous accent.

"Okay fair enough. I know my evasiveness can be quite frustrating."

"Frustrating? How about purposeless? Perhaps 'the reason I've-seemingly gone insane', or how about ridiculously transparent and failing to avoid revealing that you spy on everything that goes on in the castle, including happy time in the shower?"

At this the Headmaster was untreatably and predictably speechless.

When he realized he would get no further response Harry took on a vaguely satisfied look. "On that note. I think it's time for me to head out. To the Hospital Wing, right?"

"That…would probably be best. Good day Harry-er-Ms. Potter."

"BYE!" He shouted, waving like the Queen had taught him from the telly. 

A/n

Hyperactive/annoying/insane/cooky Harry+ Snape = Me never being unhappy again


	3. Chapter 3

Not What You Need

In which we have a delightful mixture of bad poetry and a slaughtering of the English language

Minerva McGonagall rubbed her palm over her forehead. Her headache was powerful and she was just about ready to give up on life completely. She had a thirty-year long career behind her of crazy rambunctious children turning into reckless, emotional teenagers. Yet never, in her entire career, had she come across something as out of control and irritating as Harry James Potter.

"La la la la la la la , la la, la la la la la la la!" The boy sang loudly as he had been doing so for quite some time now. She supposed it was her fault, Ms. Granger had suggested that Harry resorted to humming if he heard something unpleasant and she_ had_ been off on a bit of a tangent about the "audacity of Dolores Umbridge". Coming soon to a theater near you.

"Mr. Potter. If you do not cease _this_ instant I will give you detention for the rest of your school career." Said McGonagall.

"La—It's not really a career, is it? I mean don't you usually get to _choose _your career? Hey-yo."

"Why must you even exist?" McGonagall groaned, head back in her hand.

"That's not a very delicious thing to say." Harry said dejectedly, mouth forming a pout.

"I'm honestly at the end of my rope with you Mr. Potter. I cannot fathom what is going on in that deluded adolescent head of yours, and I can no longer figure out what to say to placate you. You were always such a sweet boy; I felt as though I was the guidance you needed that was missing from your life, and I can honestly say that seeing you in such a state is painful." McGonagall told him softly.

At this awkwardly honest speech, Harry once again took on the appearance of one close to tears. One could see Ronald pleading silently with McGonagall to stop the tears at any cost.

Voice heavy with emotion, Harry spoke. "I know I'm not what you-you need…but I will _always_ love you."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I suppose I ought not to be surprised as it is you I'm speaking with."

"Hey don't blame me. I didn't write that harblegebarble. Hebedegidgidie. Harplemalarpary. Shoop-i-di-do-wop-she-do-ooh-ohh." Harry defended.

It really is funny how McGonagall's hair seems to fly more and more astray as she becomes increasingly exasperated. "For the sake of sanity and mercy stop talking."

"Yea, quit embarrassing yourself Potter," snarled an amused and pretentious voice from across the classroom.

"Oh ho-ho-ho oh. I almost forgot about you my little weaselly whiny weasel face."

Draco scoffed at the unridiculeable ridiculousness that Potter had become. "Great name potface."

"I've written a poem for you." Harry pronounced like a kid presenting a drawing to his parents…that is actually rather sad when you think about it.

It was apparent that Draco failed to see how Harry's announcement could bring anything but utter humiliation. "…dear god in heaven." He swore under his breath.

Harry walked to the front of the class, a jacked-up looking strip of parchment clutched in his hand, McGonagall was beyond words or actions at this point. Or so she would have her students believe...in actuality she was rather curious as to the contents of this poem. Harry began by dramatically, and somewhat gruesomely, clearing his throat. Because why would he suddenly do anything in an acceptable or normal manner?

"hmm-hmm.

Oh thorn in my eye

Oh hair on my tongue

Why?

Why when I suffer

Do you sparkle with joy?

Why do you look so

Happy as I cry?

…Dum dum dum dah

Your words make me sad

Your face makes me mad

It's so pointy and demonic

Not at all adorable like me

Hair on my tongue

Thorn in my eye

…You are a buttface

Oh and P.S

My parents may be dead

But at least I could tell them apart

The end."

Harry looked up from his parchment, which a few students sitting at certain angles could see was in fact, completely blank. He had a whopping 'little angel' look on his face, as if he expecting praise for his beautiful piece of art.

Draco was at first stunned into helplessness. When he shook himself, then registered and made sense of the insults Harry had made to him, he looked very indignant. Hoping to appear unaffected, he stated coolly, "I hope you burn in hell with your miserable weak parents."

Despite Harry typically breaking down hard-core whenever Draco tried to hit him with the whole_ 'your parents are de-ead, it must mean they didn't lo-ove you_' spiel, Harry's emotions were as dead as his sanity and he knew how to handle this.

"I hope we get to share the same room in hell so I can lick your face while you sleep." He stated dryly.

The silence that followed Harry's comment was stifling; the only noise to be heard was the small gasp of shock that McGonagall managed to choke out. Poor spineless Draco was looking at him quite speechlessly; his ugly shocked mug was twisted in a disgusted grimace.

Harry shifted his eyes amongst his disgusted and horrified peers. His face shifted uncomfortably; and in an act of normalcy that was now considered highly uncharacteristic of him, gulped and sputtered a desperate attempt to break the awkwardness he had created.

"Well, I can sense I've gone a bit too far so I'm going to go ahead to the Headmaster's office now." He stated, edging to the door. He looked briefly to McGonagall, but she was far too dumbfounded to think clearly at the moment; he left the stunned class behind him.

Little did he know the consequences his actions would have on his life. As nearly every teacher had been subject to his spectacular and superior brand of disruption, there was a movement in the works—a movement that would aim to discover the truth of Harry's flimsy mental state. 

A/n

Yes, I am an actual poet, thank-you for asking.

And I invented a new word: unridiculeable (un-ridicule-able) def: so insane that all inhibitions have left and no matter what is said or done to embarrass or hurt, no embarrassment or hurt is felt; such a great loss of sanity that the person is oblivious to situations of mortification and is unable to feel shame; _not able to be ridiculed_

Sue Me! I am beyond the prison that is the official dictionary!


	4. You're the Best Friend I've Ever Had

You're The Best Friend that I've Ever Had 

In which the story really gets going and we find out how many ways one can phrase "he's crazy" 

"Hiya Harry." Ron casually greeted his strange companion.

Harry was pleased to see his best friend. "Hello Ron. I have some news for you." He sang cheerfully.

This declaration made Ron vaguely nervous. "Oh yea?"

"Yep. I've been kicked out of classes and people are shunning me, so it's just me and you." He said, gripping Ron's shoulder.

Ron's face was of horrified apprehension."Oh no."

"Don't worry, you don't have much to fear; you've never done anything to make my life unhappy or difficult. Nothing _you _have ever done could have _possibly_ lead to my sudden and inconspicuously convenient mental breakdown." Harry stated casually.

"Good Lord." Ron paled. His eyes shifted nervously. "Do you really think I've done nothing to deserve your crazy be directed at me?" He asked slowly.

"Of course I do, Ronnison. Why would I think any differently?"

"Yeah, heh…Of course you wouldn't. Juuust making sure!" Ron over-enthusiastically assured. "Ronnison?"

"Of course you should be careful from here on out. Everybody thinks I'm all crazies and whatnot, and if you betrayed me by agreeing with them and not having faith in me, that would surely break my delicate heart. You also should not pester me into doing things that I'm not comfortable with; like trying to get me to tell an authority figure that another authority figure is hurtsying me. If you do any of that stank I might have to go postal on you."

"Heh, yea I wouldn't _ever _do any of those things…" Ron laughed nervously. "Wait, er…go what now? What is _postal?_"

"Oh Ronnie. How simple and disposable you are."

Ron narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Gee thanks Harry. Great thing to say to a person who's been struggling with his sense of self-worth his entire life." He paused, looking thoughtful. "I bet my mom thinks I'm disposable also." He grumbled and pouted.

Harry's eyes lit up as if he had an epiphany. "Hey! With all that emotional and verbal abuse I had growing up…well, I struggle with my self-worth as well! And I_ know_ my peeps would be ecstatic and relieved if I were to fail at life. Maybe that's why we're friends!"

"Wow. Harry, that's kind of sad and deep and…dare I say it, kinda beautiful…in a extremely messed up way."

"YEA! It is beautiful isn't it? We're friends because we're as good as the other can get and no one else would ever want either one of us." Harry declared, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Right. I'm going away from you now Harry while I still have a trace of will to live left."

"Alright bye-bye now." Harry waved as his friend trudged grumpily away. Once again the madness appeared to drain away from his eyes, his ambiguous smile suspiciously disappeared as well. He watched his friend until he was but a tiny blur in the distant, as opposed to the big blur in his face that he usually was. He really shouldn't be wearing the same glasses he had when he was four, but hey that's what unwilling guardianship and a group of teachers with too much blind trust in the omniscient powers of a barmy unsuccessful-plan conceiving headmaster will do to a kid.

Later, in the common room, Ron sat on the Gryffindors' plushy dark red couch which could seat three people as long as those three people were as close as Hermione and the boys-quite a convenience in a boarding school common room.

Ron was trying to re-read a chapter in his potions book, this was sadly the closest thing to studying he would ever do, and trying very hard to ignore that weird sixth sense where one can feel themselves being stared at. He was trying to get used to this feeling and the rhythmic puffs of breathe he could feel on the side of his face.

Beside him, Harry sat a close as he could to his friend without actually sitting _on _him, he leaned his face in close, his two bright eyes staring at the side of his friends face. He had been like this since he sat down, which was about seven minutes ago… I'm sure it felt more like an hour to Ron. Hermione, having sensed her friend's desire to be irritating, had wisely departed to study in the quiet of the library.

Finally Ron seemed to have enough. He sighed and looked at his friend a bit sadly.

"Harry why are you such a freak?"

Harry gasped in delight; he threw an arm over Ron's shoulders and began to rock them both as if grooving—yeah, grooving-to music."Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak-" He started to sing gleefully.

"No Harry! Anything, just anything…but that." Ron nearly shouted, putting his hand over Harry's mouth which was then naturally and inevitably licked and heavily drooled on.

"Alright. Soooorry." His friend said as a squeaking Ron vigorously wiped his hand on Harry's jeans—which was quite homoerotic but hey, spittle makes people act irrationally.

Harry took Ron's plea to heart and chose another song. "The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, _round _and _round. _The people on the bus go up and down, up and down. Then people on the bus all throw up, all throw up, all throw up. Vomit gets on the bus driver, he crashes the bus, crashes the bus, crashes the bus; and everybody dies." He finished with a winning grin, his hands high in the air.

Ron, who had squished himself as close to the arm of the couch and as far away from Harry, as he could get after realizing what he had been rubbing his hand on, was now looking quite horrified indeed. "Harry. I think you just emotionally scarred me for life. I may never smile again because of that. "

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought maybe you would think it was funny." He said this looking genuinely apologetic. "Want me to kiss it better?"

Ron threw his hands up in the universal gesture of _'what could I even possibly say to such madness'_. "What exactly would you be kissing?"

"Uh, your brain of course silyness. Gosh you're stupid, you may not even have a brain. I guess I'll have to slice open your chest instead and kiss your sad heart all better." He rubbed his hand over his own chest absentmindedly, his eyes getting lost in the potential fun of looking at someone's insides.

At this point, Ron was beyond being surprised by Harry's madness. He just covered his face and shook his head. "Right. Look Harry, this was all amusing and just a little bit off at first, but now you're just really starting to scare me. Are you acting this way on purpose, or are you actually…like this?

"Like what?" He asked innocently.

"Just be honest."

"I love you." Harry admitted softly, hugging Ron's arm tightly.

"Oh geeze."

"You don't love me back?"

Ron looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear this conversation. "I care about you as my best friend…"

"_say it…" _Harry encouraged.

"Why?"

"Cause of my delicates little heart, Ronald. You wouldn't want to be the reason I jump out one of the windows of this unnecessarily expansive castle. Would you?"

"Harry don't say things like that. You're…distraught enough that I would actually believe you'd do that."

"Then…?"

Ron glowered at Harry but then deflated resignedly. He sighed, then mumbled, "I love you Harry."

Harry beamed at him with his teary 'I just need love' puppy dog eyes. He looked cutely deranged, if one can imagine such a thing.

"What's huh now?" A voice questioned behind Ron.

He turned and saw his twin brothers standing behind him with wickedly delightful smiles on their faces. Ron knew they had heard. Harry must have set him up, so he glowered at the little twerp.

"Why?' He whispered, his eyes a mixture of hurt and anger.

Harry looked at him blankly. There was something happening in his unreadable green eyes-something that gave Ron an immense feeling of foreboding.

And surely enough, Harry shouted with much emotion, and for the whole common room to hear, "because our love is not something that we should have to hide!" Having performed his latest act of disruption, really it must be considered and art at this point, he ran messily toward the boys' stairway making distressed sob noises the whole way.

This left his poor dopey friend behind to deal with the inevitable mortification that would follow any such scene, gay or otherwise. At this point his blush was so great that the ginger was quite living up to the title of 'redhead'.

His brothers both sported _boomboom_-eating grins. Whether they believed Harry's declaration, or merely enjoyed the incoming onslaught of mortifying attention their brother was about to receive he did not know. But at present he knew the only way to thwart the impending insults and incredulous truth seeking was to follow his loony friend's lead and run off into the less crowded dorm.

But as his foot reached the steps a tug on his arm drew him back. His brother, the one they deemed Forge, had accosted him. "Well, well, well. I knew you and the bespeckled barmy-one-who-lived were close; but I had no idea our wittle ickle Ronnikins was in _looooove_."

"Stuff it George! You know how's he's been. He tricked me into saying it. Ever since he's gone 'round the bend he's been cunning as all that and manipulative. Leave me be or I'll tell mom about your little business."

Forge's eyes widened. "Okay, okay." He let go of Ron. "As you were."

Ron ran away quickly before someone else decided to harass him further. 

a/n

I hope reading this made you feel happy.


	5. Unwilling Savior

Hermione was just having a very good morning; she had woken up long before the boys, as per usual, and had been able to enjoy a relaxed breakfast without their respective open-mouthed chewing and pouty brooding. She had almost been accosted by Lavender who seemed quite determined to tell her a bit of gossip pertaining to some altercation that had occurred between her two slow-witted best friends in the common room the night before.

Thankfully, she had escaped by artfully declaring she was in a hurry to the library as a book she was anxiously awaiting had finally been returned. It was a simple lie of course, but it was sufficient in allowing her to avoid listening to the lengthy and improperly phrased babbling of her excitable roommate. Besides, whatever Harry had done to poor Ron could not have been so very interesting.

How wrong she must have been, for Ron did not show up to their first class in the greenhouses. Usually this was the one class Ronald attended with no complaining and grumbling-due to the fact that if you had an IQ higher than a salted snail's, you could pass this class quite easily. Nonetheless, her friend did not show up and she feared perhaps Harry had done something irreversibly humiliating or had, heaven forbid, caused him some sort of debilitating bodily harm.

Reluctantly, after searching in the hopes that Pavarti was standing next to her, she gently coaxed the attention of the resident Village Idiot of the Gryffindor Girl's dorms. "I don't suppose you might still be in the mood to tell me what happened between Ron and Harry yesterday."

Lavender's eyes lit up as if it were Christmas. "Sure I will. You see they were arguing about something—quietly arguing where no one could hear them—and we weren't paying much attention to them anyway. But then out of nowhere Harry yells loud enough for _everyone _to hear…something quite revealing and juicy." _Do not roll your eyes. Do not roll your eyes. _Hermione thought to herself. "Harry yelled that he and Ron shouldn't have to hide their love!" Lavender whisper-yelled in a ridiculous manner.

"Oh. Okay, then; thank-you." Hermione dazedly replied. She felt sympathetic for poor Ron. As if there weren't enough reasons to make fun of that awkward doof. As for Harry, well, Hermione knew not what to do about him. So far she had been selfish and self-preserving by avoiding him completely. Recently, however, he was becoming more and more uninhibited and disruptive. Publicly humiliating himself in a manner that was becoming both habitual and self-gratifying hinted at a deeper state of detachment and sociopathic egoism that strayed exceedingly far from her original theory that Harry was merely exhibiting an extreme case of 'acting out', common to most adolescents.

As Herbology ended, she knew her first priority, over even her classes, was to find her friends and give them the support they needed. She could not be selfish or cowardice in this, or any, situation; she was the rock of this group, the source of reason and comfort. If she bailed out now or chickened out, those two would fall apart like the sloppily-glues-back-together emotionally wrecked messes they were.

She barged in to the Fifth Year Gryffindor boy's dormitory and caught the last bit of Harry's newest ramblings, _"…that's how I learned that bananas and butts don't mix."_

She decided it would be best if the first part of that story remained a mystery to her _forever. _She took in the pitiful scene before her. Ron lay on his back with his arms at his sides and a look on his face as though he were mentally begging Death to take pity and whisk him away. Harry sat crossed-legged with the very tips of his knees atop Ron's person. He was leaning forward and resting his chin on his fists like a little kid watching a film—this allowed Ron no room to escape, physically or mentally, what had surely been hours of psychotic babbling.

"Hey Hermione!" Harry yelled excitedly.

She looked to Ron. He turned his head slowly and looked at her; he appeared haggard, and on the brink of snapping. "Why?" was all he could manage.

"Oh, Ron. You wouldn't know how to read a person if they fell asleep on a newspaper and got the words imprinted on their skin."

Harry appreciated this greatly. "Ohhh! No she di-in't! Up top!" Harry threw his hand up for a high five; she obliged only to quiet him down.

"Hey! Why does everyone got to pick on me? 'Sides, not everyone is smart like you Hermione." Ron whined.

She wanted so much to explain to him that her intelligence was no matter of inborn ability, but only an outcome of her _actively_ seeking knowledge; but now was not the time.

"Can't you see that this, clearly, is a cry for help?" She implored.

"What is?" Harry asked.

"Never you mind, Harry. You just let Ron and I talk for a bit, we have important things to discuss, okay?"

"Fine," Harry petulantly replied. He dejectedly snuggled into Ron's side where he remained pouting. Ron shot Hermione a desperate and horrified look.

She shook her head. "Ron, if that will keep him quiet while we talk then allow him to stay please."

Ron did not look happy about this but he obliged nonetheless. "What do you mean, a 'cry for help'?"

"I mean that Harry is feeling stressed and…well, probably a number of other unpleasant emotions, and he doesn't know how to deal with or express them in healthy, normal, or subtle ways. What he is doing is akin to when your Mom makes you help her with the dishes and you do so but do so while giving her the silent treatment. Or when your dad pays to much attention to one of your brothers and once he _does_ address you, you may say something like, "why don't you go ask George". Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Ron slowly shook his head, he _did _sort of understand her point. "Wait…how did you know all that stuff about me?"

"Ron, please. All humans of _average _intelligence are all exactly the same. Now this isn't about you, remember? Do you understand now why Harry is acting this way?"

"Are you sure? Maybe he really is crazy." Ron suggested, shrugging.

"Maybe. I doubt it, though. He seems to have control over his actions, his shenanigans all seemed well-thought out and planned beforehand. If he were crazy, his outbursts would be more emotionally charged, and I mean genuine emotion not those alligator tears. Besides, people don't usually just spontaneously go insane, they have phases in which they act irrationally then act relatively normally, and they do this for some time before they, if ever, succumb to total madness."

"How. The hell. Do you know _everything_!"

"It's called reading, try it some time."

At this Ron looked particularly grumpy, but he let it slide. "Well how do we make it stop?"

"Make it stop." Harry echoed in a whisper. He had his big green eyes open wide and staring at Hermione. She had been avoiding those eyes as she talked, but she could no longer run away from the gaze.

"Make it stop." He said again eyes unmoving. But even as his expression remain flat and unchanging, he gripped Ron's sleep shirt tightly as if frightened. "Make her stop." He practically screamed, but still his face did not change.

Hermione was beginning to look a lot less sure than she was a few seconds prior. She grimaced both apologetically and worriedly at Ron. "Maybe I was wrong. This is a bit unprecedented and and worrying."

"_A bit unprecedented and worrying?" _Ron incredulously repeated. "For a smart person you sure don't know how to dumb down your vocabulary for the sake of relaying distress and importance!"

"That was good." Hermione nodded approvingly.

"Thanks." Ron said proudly.

"Mmmmmm." Harry clearly had had enough of their banter. "I want her to leave. She makes Harry sad."

Hermione threw her hands up exasperatedly. "Hey, I just want to help you."

Harry sat up and looked at Hermione closely. "You know facts but you don't know how to feel. I need someone who uses their heart more than their brain; I need an idiot like Ron." Ron at this point had given up trying to get justice for the world's cruel dismissal of him, and said nothing. "You cannot help me with your…reason."

Hermione looked back into his teary, yet resolute, eyes. They stared at one another for bit before she closed her eyes and sighed. "Fine. I'll leave you alone to wallow in your madness with no one to help you but a quick-to-panic dim-witted teenage boy. But know this, when you decide that you want real help, and that you're ready to assimilate yourself back into society, I will be waiting to help you."

She got up to leave, but as she neared the door, Harry stood up from the bed to address her. "I love you, and you are a wonderful friend, but this is for the best. You have so much potential, so much ahead of you; I won't let you get roped up in this. Once you've been tied into my web of madness, you can never truly break free. I am doing this to spare you."

Hermione stood tall as she looked stoically into her friends tear-filled eyes. Then her face shifted and she appeared to have accepted something that only she could see. She nodded slowly, "Thank-you. As melodramatic as that was, I do appreciate you letting me off the hook so I can focus on my OWLs." She turned to Ron. "At the very least don't let him leave this room naked."

And with that, the mad man's only hope of salvation was gone.

Harry turned to Ron. The seriousness of his gaze startled the ginger. "She knows too much."


	6. Who Visits

Who Visits

_Previously…_

_Harry turned to Ron. The seriousness of his gaze startled the ginger. "She knows too much."_

"What do mean by that?" Ron asked.

Harry, lost in his head, shook his head. "Nothing. I'm going to go see DumbleBore."

Later, in Dumbledore's office, Harry sat listening to the ramblings of an old man.

"So, my boy. That is the story of the prophecy and how your life was doomed to be a series of unlikely situations of pain and tormenting loss." The Headmaster concluded after telling Harry the lengthy and no-doubt depressing tale of his predestined fate.

"Ya know sir…" Harry trailed off, lost in thought.

"Yes, er… Ms. Potter?"

"I've a had a teensy bit of an epiphany just then."

"Oh, please share; I, as an elderly flamboyant and ambiguously genius man, do enjoy a good epiphany."

"So, Voldemort heard about this prophesy business and then decided to attack me as a baby, correct?" Harry implored.

Dumbledore nodded. "As I have just explained to you exactly, yes."

"And this Voldemort fellow is pretty smart yes?"

"Well he was the brightest of his generation here at school."

"So, how come he didn't realize that if he hadn't tried to kill me I probably wouldn't have been compelled to go off and fight him at all; but by killing my parents, and essentially branding me, he basically painted a target on himself in my eyes? He sort of made the prophesy come true by trying to stop it before it happened…which means if he had never heard it, it may not have come true at all…but then would the prophesy…cancel out?"

"Well now, that's a difficult question, I'm not sure-"

"And if he hadn't attacked me, what would the world be like now? Would I be some sort of half-blood slave or something? Maybe my destiny would always remain and I would take it upon myself to fight him. Oh, sir. My head is done in."

"No kidding." Was the reply Harry received; but it wasn't the headmaster who'd spoken.

Harry turned to see a tall slender men with chocolate brown hair and a boy-tie standing behind him, eying him curiously and…for some unfathomable reason, delightedly.

After sizing the stranger up a bit, Harry decided he knew the type of person this man was, and he was not going to start being cooperative now! "Sup man?" He asked casually.

The bonkers looking man seemed quite taken aback, as if he was expecting a much more eventful greeting.

"Are you not going to ask who I am?" He said cheerfully, though it was obvious he was feeling disappointed.

"Nope." Harry said simply.

"But…my introduction…my catch-phrase…the dramatic music before I say my name…it can't happen if you don't act surprised and ask who I am," whined the stranger.

"Tough dookie. Welcome to Harry World where nothing is shocking or improbable. I mean if I had no reaction to being told I'm a freakin' wizard, am I really going to be surprised by some nerdy dude standing behind me in the office of the weirdest most unpredictable genius-slash- moron old man in the world?"

The stranger took on a look of intrigue and, once again, that strange delight. "You're a wizard?"

Noticing the man's lack of uneasiness in the face of Harry's unusual tangent, Harry thought maybe he was, after all, someone to be admired. "Ah, I see you and I have much in common. Yes I am."

"Oh, that is…unexpected and…brilliant! Show me what you can do."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. _Wingardium Leviosa_." A quill of the Headmaster's, who was still silent and wondering _who the heck this man was and how the hell did he get in this office_, rose slowly into the air. Harry led it around a bit before settling it back down unto its shelf.

The man watched the demonstration silently, seeming to become more and more deflated. "Well that was a bit disappointing. Eh, uh, humor me would you boy-o?" He gave Harry a winning smile, which could only manage to be endearing due to his spastic awkwardness.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fiiiine." He stopped and cleared his throat, putting a phony shocked look on his face. "Who the hell are you?"

"…I'm the Doctor."

"Kay." Harry shrugged.

"Oh come on!" The man shouted, Harry was satisfied to see that his expert petulance had finally gotten to even this ambiguous and strange character.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and put on his best smug look. "Well maybe you should have acted more impressed with my magic."

"Ahem." Dumbledore finally decided to interrupt what was surely due to become the 'Exchange of Insanity That Went On For Days'.

The Doctor's attention was transferred to Dumbledore, immediately all signs of his former frustration vanished and he once again looked friendly and inquisitive. "Oh hello there. My god, you're an old one aren't you? Say, why do you look familiar?"

Dumbledore smiled at the young man's refreshing curiosity. "Well, my boy, I have lived for very long and have met many people. Perhaps you were one of those people."

"_You_ have lived for very long? Well, if I had time to tell _you _some stories…but, that's not why I'm here. I'm here because I got a message on this psychic paper here about some sort of time and prophecy confusion. Apparently some unfortunate barmy lad's gone full on soft in the head because of it."

"What are _you_ supposed to do about it?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Well, I'm a Time Lord my dear boy and I can investigate this confusing situation and do all sorts of seemingly unnecessary things and unravel this nonsensical timeline…all of which will end in me telling you nothing definitive about whether or not your destiny would always have been this way or if it could have changed."

"Do you think mayhaps you could skip those shenanigans you were describing. You see, we as magic folk have enough unnecessary and ambiguously structured customs in our everyday lives that we don't need you to make us feel like life is anything more than a dull throbbing annoyance and one miserable pointless motion after another."

The Doctor was surprised enough by Harry's musing that it took him an awkward minute to find his speech. "Well that was cheerful." He finally said. "Very well then, the answer is…there is no way to tell if you're future would have been completely different had he not killed your family. But I can say for absolute fact that prophesies can be weaseled out of and sometimes even ignored completely, and what has happened has happened because several characters altered their behavior in order to avoid it, thereby in actuality ensuring it came true. But there's nothing to be done about now, unfortunately and regrettably. I'll be off then, yeah? Tally-ho." With that the Doctor opened a door in thin air, took a step, then disappeared.

Dumbledore assumed that he must have had some transport device that was cloaked. But they both heard the sound of strange engines firing up and becoming dimmer and dimmer, until the sound disappeared completely.

Harry turned to the professor with full-on grumpy face. "What say you?"

Dumbledore looked guiltily upon the poor fool. There was nothing he could say to make the boy feel better, nothing to erase his guilt and responsibility for the child's horrifying existence. There was only one thing he could think to say at this point. "I'm still more of an intriguing and unfathomable spectacular wizened old man than he is, right?"

Harry's eyes shone with anger for a moment before he gained control over himself again. He looked deadpanned into his Headmaster's eyes and spoke accordingly, "not a butt's chance in gay bathhouse you bedazzled raisin. Not only was he more energetic and clever than you, but he was pretty as well."

Dumbledore looked at his protégé-his shining star, the light of his life, the wind beneath his wings…his eternal bunny-faced tormentor. "You're fired."

At this Harry uttered a remarkable scoff/whine hybrid. "From what?"

"Being my golden boy! Return to your dorm and only speak to me when I summon you," bellowed the suddenly not cheerful or rascally Headmaster.

"But since you ruined my life and sealed my doomed fate of doom, may I ask one request of you." Dumbledore shook his head affirmatively. "May I start attending classes again?"

Dumbledore looked queasy all of the sudden, but out of guilt he relented.

Harry left…but he left in secret satisfaction.


	7. Harrmione

Harrmione

Or

The Consequences of Being Awesome

Having his classroom attendance privileges reinstated, Harry looked forward to his first class with Professor Snape and the Ravenclaws-which interestingly enough could both be labeled as pretentious droning intellectuals.

Harry entered the smelly dungeon classroom and marched right up to Snape's desk. Poor professor Snape raised his face only enough to see who was accosting him; when he saw Harry standing there, his left eyebrow began to twitch quite remarkably.

Oh yes, he and the other teachers had been warned what today would bring. They had known all along that this day would come, but they had hoped against hope it would come much later than it did.

"Any particular reason why you are silently standing in front of my desk and staring at me as if you were a lobotomized idiot?" The notorious curmudgeon finally droned.

"Hehehe." Harry giggled, much to the apparent chagrin of Snape's eyebrow. "I missed you most of all." Harry said softly, in what was alarmingly close to being a seductive manner. "I just wanted to tell you that you are one sexy mama." He winked and skipped over to his desk that he once again shared with his unhappy-looking Weasley friend.

Snape remained staring into the place where Harry no longer stood. His mind was a torrent of chaos and for once in all his snarky life, Severus Snape was beyond words. Well, more accurately, this situation was beyond his arsenal of words, but that is saying something of far greater significance and also quite a disturbing thought.

As the last flustered teenager rushed into the room and nearly tackled her seat as to not be tardy, the students silenced for they knew this particular professor demanded quiet as soon as class began.

When the good ol' potions Master remained frozen as a statue, one impatient and particularly self-righteous Ravenclaw boy raised his hand. When he received no acknowledgment, he took the risk of doing something that was forbidden in Snape's classes: he spoke without being called upon. "Professor Snape? Class has begun."

Snape shook himself a bit. "Right…um…" He muttered distantly.

The shock of this utterance was so great that the students for a moment all felt their little teenage worlds begin to fall apart, but just as soon as the fabric of reality began to unravel, their vision refocused and their stomachs re-ascended. The shock was over at least, but the feeling of foreboding remained.

Ron, as he does best, uttered an utterly rhetorical but appropriate question, "Did Snape just say 'um'?"

Hermione immediately turned to Harry; he looked innocently back at her, although there was the tiniest bit of a smug smile on his lips. "I'm going to assume this was your doing?" She asked.

"You would be assuming correctly." He said, by now the smugness was so great, it was impossible for him to retain it.

Hermione looked back at Snape, he was still trapped within the thousand-yard stare, a trap so fantastically ingenious that even the brightest and/or toughest of human and beast could not escape until it chose to let them go.

"He better snap out of this soon Harry, today was going to be a very crucial lesson." She tried to remain calm as an attempt to defeat her devious friend, but her irritation was steadily increasing.

"Hehe." He giggled once again. "Snape's gotta snap! Hehehe."

Hermione's head hit the desk with a thud. On Harry's other side, Ron gave a muffled laugh and smiled at the two, despite his status being that he still hadn't forgiven them for being relentlessly cruel.

Unsurprisingly, and helpfully as to give one's imagination a small repose, Snape did not recover from Harry's brilliant psyche-out and class failed to resume as planned. The Ravenclaws and Hermione with their superiority complexes had all opened their books and studied on their own. The Gryffindors mostly spent the class sleeping, talking, or enjoying the nice day outside.

The exception to this was Harry, who was at first happy to merely stare at Ron while the boy in question nearly cried from the stress it caused; but then it seemed that he needed to engage in something a bit more stimulating. He went up to Snape's desk and began making kissy faces at the man.

At the beginning of this harassment, Snape still appeared unable to escape his stupor, but once Harry took to licking his upper lip in an exaggeratedly (and unsuccessful) sensuous manner, Snape finally came to. He yelled very loudly for everyone to leave the room immediately, which they did. Even Harry had enough sense to scoot his hiney out of there with great haste.

Once outside however, it was Hermione's wrath he had to face, but she was a small threat-though her power and cunning far excelled that of anyone they knew, her understanding and stable nature ensured his safety.

"Harry!" She chastised.

"Hermione!"

"When you disrupt class you hurt all of us!"

"When I disrupt class I hurt all of you."

She levelly stared at him. "Oh, don't even start that game."

"Oh, I won't even start that game." He said with a great amount of cheek.

Hermione looked less affected than he was hoping for; she appeared neither annoyed, nor frustrated, only very bored. She turned and walked away without another word.

Harry nodded approvingly and turned to Ron. "She's good." He stated appreciatively. "I think I'll steal her identity today."

Ron had taken to glaring to his friend rather than speaking to him these days, but at this idea he felt the need to at least attempt intervention, "What?"

"Oh Ronald, you are such a delightful mixture of amusing and frustrating with your simpleton rhetorical questions. You see if you knew how to read, perhaps you would have gathered a more extensive vocabulary by now; you could be able to accept one's words and comment on them with insight or accurately request they elaborate. But alas, you are forever trapped in your cycle of regurgitated single syllables." Harry primly admonished.

"Harry, what the bloody heck are you talking about?"

"My name is Hermione; can you not tell us apart by now? Allow me to help you. Harry's female, I'm male—sort of—he has long light brown hair, I have short black hair. See?"

After this impromptu lesson, Ron had clearly lost the ability to keep his mouth closed as he stared at Harry in an uncomprehending manner. "Okay, whatever" he lamented, and then he realized something. "Hey! I can read!"

"I wouldn't expect any other kind of response from you." Harry said condescendingly.

Just then Hermione walked back over, she had a different set of books in her arms, and her face took on an involuntary look of annoyance when she met Harry's eyes. "Are you done copying me?"

"Yes, Harry. I'm not going to copy you anymore; those games are for the_ immature_ anyhow."

Hermione did not react beyond turning calmly to Ron, and asking, "What is he doing now?"

"He decided he wants to be you today."

"Of course he did." She muttered.

Hermione-Harry interrupted their conversation in an authoritative voice, "we should head to class now, we wouldn't want to be late". Before he started off he made sure to give Ron a pat on the buns.

This did finally make Hermione react; though, only very slightly as not to give Harry the satisfaction. "I have never, nor will I ever smack Ron on the ass."

"Of course _Harry _doesn't like Ron; but please, we all know that Hermione likes Ron."

Harry-Hermione didn't get flustered as Hermione-Harry had expected her to. She merely looked bemused and a tad harassed. "How could _I_ want Ron? He's a ginger, first of all, and beyond that he's a complete lout. Perhaps if I were anyone else I could possibly find something of value in him, but I am perfect and therefore I also need perfection or as close as one can get to it. Now let's drop this nonsense."

A pouty-looking Ron trudged behind his friends. "Do you guys think I'm deaf, or is this some elaborate scheme to get rid of me?"

"Oh Ronald, don't be silly." Hermione-Harry and Hermione said at the same time, they then both turned to glare at each other.

"You're absolutely within the right to be upset. I am truly sorry; we really shouldn't pick on you." Hermione apologized with sincerity.

"It's just so easy." Hermione-Harry added, earning an impossibly powerful elbow from Harry-Hermione.

Hermione said nothing more and they all went to class.


	8. Battle of Will, Not Wit

Battle of Will, Not Wit

Harry was very nearly skipping down the hallway to his next class; whereas Ron and Hermione trudged behind him, obviously much less enthusiastic than their friend. Earlier, that morning Harry exclaimed that he was excited to return to his favorite class, Defense against the Dark Arts; this class, however, was hated by most. Teenagers were treated like small children, which if you ask any teenager is the best possible way to irritate them, and the younger students were treated as invalids.

Even the Slytherins, despite having inexplicable and ever so subtle favoritism by Umbridge, despised the class. Their beloved superior pureblood abilities were wasted where magic was forbidden.

Therefore, Harry's claims were quite beyond the understanding of his friends, but they had slowly gotten used to their friend's enigmatic ways since the beginning of the year when he seemingly lost his bloody mind.

"Oh I'm so excited for this!" Harry stated, in a breathy way that made all those close to him vaguely uncomfortable. "I think I'm going to cum in my pants!" He stated loudly—so loudly that all those in a twenty-foot radius got an unpleasant earful. Most of the students were his age and older; the older students either broke into that annoying giggle adults use when children say something beyond their years or otherwise rolled their eyes thinking they were much too old for such low-brow crassness. Thankfully, no younger students were around to be traumatized for life.

The two Gryffindor girls ahead of the trio broke out into uncontrollable and near-hysterical giggling fits, as much as they tried to suppress it out of contempt for Harry. From everyone else there was a general murmur of "gross", "sicko", and the ever popular in reference to Harry, "freak".

Hardly three milliseconds after Harry shouted out his latest bit of TMI, Ron had spun on his heels -ready to go back the dorms, or perhaps even step right off the ledge of a very high tower, what difference did it make anymore really?

Thankfully, Hermione, ever levelheaded, grabbed his sleeve and propelled him forward, completely intent on keeping as much satisfaction from Harry as possible.

Draco Malfoy crossed paths with Harry in just enough time to hear the admission, (perhaps this was Harry's plan). Although he was quite disgusted and the bully in him (about 85 percent of his overall "personality") saw fantastic bullying material, he was still somewhat affected by Harry's thinly veiled confession of wanting to lick his face, and thereby quite reluctant to draw the boy's attention.

However, his precautionary silence was not enough to save him from the tongue glide and sultry wink Harry shot his way when his head involuntarily whipped around at Harry's loud proclamation. Seeing this caused a shiver of disgust and, humiliatingly, fear to shoot through him. He reflexively grabbed unto to the arm of the student next to him for protection, and was subsequently further mortified to see that it was an older Hufflepuff boy who sent a smug self-satisfied eyebrow quirk in his direction.

Shocked, Draco stumbled back only to have his behind press straight into Goyle's crotch, which Draco was instantly sickened to find was slightly hard. In his astounding stupidity, Goyle grabbed Draco about the hips and pushed him gently away, giving him a placating pat on the side of a buttock clearly, but still moronically, trying to soothe his "master".

After this chain of events, Draco stared at the wall where he stood frozen in the middle of the bustling hallway. He felt tears of embarrassment and defeat welling up in his eyes along with the familiar and horrifying beginning of one of his infamous bratty-rich-boy tantrums.

Instead, Harry and the gang passed him by. Once again Harry winked; but his was no wink of seduction, it was unquestionably a wink that conveyed an extremely smug "gotcha".

Draco's tantrum faded instantly, only to be replaced with blinding anger. _Potter would pay, oh how he would pay so dearly_. Just as the beginnings of an evil plan formed in his mind, he felt a hand grab him very much too near his butt. "Stop grabbing my ass Goyle!" He shouted indignantly. _This_ outburst was heard by the entire hallway, and every student burst out in mocking laughter.

A hilariously red-faced Draco Malfoy decided right then and there that he hated this entire school and everyone would pay dearly for daring to exist without his permission.

"Stop grabbing my ass Goyle!" Harry heard just as he was entering the DADA classroom. He snorted and smiled proudly when he met Hermione's speculative gaze.

"Did you plot out that whole incident to happen as it did, or was it mostly by chance?" She asked him, her tone somewhat disbelieving.

"Oh, Hermione. You act as though I am some kind of evil genius. Maybe you could have devised such a detailed and thorough humiliation, but I am but a simple detail-ignoring teenage boy and no way could I have foreseen such a spectacular outcome." Harry stated bemusedly.

Hermione's mouth twitched. "You can never just give a straight answer can you?"

"Now you know how we feel when we ask you to explain something." Ron mumbled from where he had seated himself on her other side.

This comment seemed to worry Hermione. "I'm not that bad am I?"

Ron pondered this for a bit, as much as Ron could _ponder _anything. "No I suppose you're not as bad as Harry. You at least want us to understand; I think he just wants to drive us all mad." Ron said with a small amount of venom and a sidled glare at Harry.

"Oh, you think so?" Hermione asked sarcastically. They both laughed lightly while Harry pretended to pout.

Just then Umbridge entered the room and cleared her throat to silence the students; she did this even though her voice works perfectly fine, aside from being aggravatingly grating, and she could just as easily of asked politely.

"Good morning students." Her sickeningly sweet voice abused their ears.

"Good morning, professor", every student replied following another ridiculous rule of her creation. Having been forbidden to attend classes until a clear diagnosis of his mental state was achieved, Harry had knew not of this rule and dutifully replied with a gleeful, "Hey there".

To his disappointment, Umbridge paid his greeting no mind. The only sign that she even heard him was an ambiguous look of self-satisfaction on her face; which only Harry knew was due to her having successfully ignored him. To his chagrin, he felt a tiny blush form on his face; having his outbursts ignored was far more embarrassing then having everyone react to them.

Harry raised his hand. Umbridge thought over whether she would prefer to have class go on uninterrupted or call on Harry and have him further prove the Prophet's claims of his mental state. She was so very evil. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

He furrowed his brow endearingly. "Excuse you, but did you not get the memo?" He innocently asked.

Umbridge pursed her lips and greatly struggled to correct herself, "Sorry, _Ms. Potter_". At this several eyebrows raised amongst the students, quite a few snickers and snorts were unsuccessfully stifled.

Yet Harry ignored them and smiled happily at his teacher. "I was just wondering, I mean I've asked almost everyone, and looked through our text book; it seems that no one can tell me what we actually _learn _in this class." Harry asked naively with his sappy eyes staring widely at Umbridge.

Next to him, Hermione smirked at the underhanded slice; her smirking abilities would certainly put Malfoy's chinless face to shame.

Despite the clear aggravation on her face, Umbridge tried her best to keep her voice calm and cheerful. "Why, my dear boy, we study the _theory_ of Magical Defense. We read about why certain spells are used to deflect or counter-act other spells, we learn the difference between spells, curses and hexes, and we discover how a witch or wizard's will can affect the strength and efficiency of their magic." She finished looking proudly around the room.

"Oh, okay. But, well, don't take this the wrong way, but can't we learn all those things in like…a week? If even it takes _that _long... I mean, how long does it take to tell us what a hex is, or that for a spell to work you have to really want it to work?" Harry asked, he acted as if he was merely being a curious lad, but there was just the tiniest bit of cheekiness about him.

Hermione's smirk had blossomed into a full faced grin, much like a wolf watching a lamb stray from the flock.

Most students also smugly watched their teacher flounder; despite their current distaste for Harry's presence, they were glad someone was finally giving this annoying professor a hard time. She cleared her throat-not in that high-pitched annoying way she usually did.

"Well, dear boy, it all is much more complicated than all that." She said strained. "Believe me, one cannot fully grasp, _nor _practice, magic without first having a full understanding of its uses and the theory which gives it as much structure as magic can possible have. Otherwise, all you are really doing is memorizing words and wand movements. Not a particularly solidified knowledge if you ask me." Umbridge concluded smugly.

_Damn! _Harry thought. _That actually makes a fantastic amount of sense! _He looked to Hermione; she was positively fuming, suggesting she too saw the sense in this.

But Harry thought quickly and found the flaw in her logic. "Yes," Harry started, "but wouldn't it _still _be more beneficial and make a heck of a lot more sense if we also put into practice what we learn in theory?" Harry smiled in confidence again. There, now he'd gotten her.

Umbridge gave a great exasperated sigh, her body language suggested she was about to put an abrupt end to the conversation. "My dear boy—"

"Girl." Harry corrected half-heartedly.

"My dear _girl _this is not a matter up for debate. I have my syllabus and I will follow it; no _whining _of an un-well _child _is going to change my teaching methods." With that said, Umbridge stalked off to the board to commence the lesson.

She left Harry decimated. He quite looked like he was having a conniption or was perhaps horribly constipated. He trying in vain to keep up his appearance of blissful unawareness and naivety; but his smile was faltering and there was a great twitching about his brow and cheeks. His expressive eyes seemed to flash between empty bliss and bright anger before they settled and dulled into a frightening cold anger.

"Are you okay?" Ron whispered, having momentarily gotten over his grudge.

"Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?" Harry said in an eerily empty voice, his unblinking eyes not moving from where they stared across the room at Umbridge.

Over his head, Hermione and Ron exchanged very worried glances. So far that year, Harry had not gotten angry, or at least, had not shown any anger. They had no idea what horrors such a powerful emotion, and one that Harry was exceptionally sensitive to, would cause in his new deluded state. 

TBC

Sorry it's been awhile but I was busy re-editing the first few chapters to fit in better with the more recent ones. I wrote the first two many _many _months before I posted this story. There was a gigantic discrepancy between the first two chapters and the ones after because when I wrote the first two I was going for full on parody and not too worried about making sense, and I was uncharacteristically lazy about it.

I have already written the two after this as well, but I want to be ahead of myself in case I have one of my infamous lazy weeks.

Thank-you reviewers!


	9. Umbridge Instigates

Umbridge Instigates

After a long and excruciatingly boring lesson, Professor Umbridge allowed her students to leave. If one where standing outside of the DADA classroom as her pupils left, they would have seen very many aggravated-looking teenagers filing past.

Harry stood up and turned toward the door as if to leave. He acted like he was politely waiting for all the students to go ahead of him, but when the last student approached the door he turned and walked to Umbridge's desk.

"_Hi-de-ho there, Professor Umbridge_." Harry purred sinisterly.

"Mr. Potter." Umbridge greeted in turn.

"How many times must I tell you people, it's Ms. Potter." He growled.

"Now Harry. You are a _male_, the proper way to address you is by Mr."

"Maybe I don't want to be proper, eh? Maybe I don't want to be a randy obnoxious sod like the rest of my dorm mates!"Harry cried, looking up at Umbridge with teary eyes.

"Ehrm. Right, then. How have your sessions with the therapists been going?" she asked shiftily.

"Do you think I don't know what that was? Trying to make it seem as though this is a part of my mental issues. How dare you, sir?"

"Ma'am." She corrected.

"_Now you know how it feels." _Harry whispered, voice husky with anger. "You should call me by what I wish to be addressed as."

"No! I don't have any say over the other teachers but I will no longer indulge you in your ridiculous games." Umbridge blinked several times trying to calm her annoyance. "If you absolutely feel the need to rant and unload your feelings, then you should go see the therapist the Headmaster and Madame Pomfrey hired just for your sake."

"Yes, maybe. Maybe I'll tell her about how you've been embarrassing me in class and threatening me with detention when I can't control my emotions. Threatening me even though it's not my fault. Then, perhaps we could go to the Headmaster together and let him in on it."

Umbridge smiled at Harry delightedly. "Oh, _Mr_. Potter. You sadly overestimate Dumbledore's influence; and your underestimation of my power is even more pathetic." She said in her sickeningly sweet voice; she leant in further and looked down at him threateningly. "No matter what happens, no matter what you do, I cannot be forced out of this school. You go on embarrassing yourself all you'd like, but it won't help you. It only drives the students, and more importantly their parents, right into the ministry's hands. Keep it up Potter, you're doing us a favor." She finished sweetly.

Harry was angry and stunned. Just then, a group of noisy second years entered the DADA classroom.

"Now if you'd excuse me," Umbridge said, "I have a class to attend to."

Before she pushed past him, he stepped in front of her and looked her straight in the eye. "Fine. Whatever. Just remember you brought whatever happens on yourself. I never back down; and I have nothing to lose—remember that too." He said, his voice losing all traces of whininess and innocence.

With that he left the classroom, ignoring the way the second years dashed out of his way and were afraid to turn their backs on him.

/

As a precaution, it was mandatory for Harry to have sessions every night after dinner before retiring.

"Hello, Harry." His therapist said softly.

"Hey Eleanor." He greeted unenthusiastically.

"How are you today?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "The same as every other day."

Her eyebrows twitched slightly from confusion. "…Which would mean?"

"Crappy. Depressed. Angry. Lonely. Mood swingy." He said tonelessly.

"You feel this way every day?" Eleanor asked with genuine concern.

"Yes. But sometimes I feel horny. That's not a type of misery; so I guess it's not all crap." He replied with a great amount of sarcasm.

"Well, that's…good I guess. But it's not enough. We want you to feel happy and stress-free."

"I hate when you say 'we' like that." He grumbled.

"I'm sorry. _I _want you to be happy. And I hope you do too. That's all I meant."

"I'm never going to not have stress. Not with the Skull-face skulking around out there."

"Skull-face?"

"You know, Voldemort."

"I see. The Prophet would have the world believe that your tale is a lie, or worse a horrible psychological ailment." She said ambiguously.

"Do you believe that?" Harry asked with feigned disinterest.

"I believe you've been lying a lot lately. However, I believe your behavior started recently; _After _the Magical world seemed to turn its back on you. You don't want attention; you want help. No I don't believe the Prophet, in fact I _know_ what it says is not true." She said truthfully and forcefully. She sounded a bit angry in talking about the Prophet, so he believed her.

Harry stared at the floor "A cry for help? That's what Hermione said too."

"Sounds about right, yeah?"

"Months back, I would have said no way. This was all about revenge, sticking it to the world that insisted I was an attention-seeking liar by becoming the _ultimate _attention-seeking liar. Now, I'm not sure. I feel—not okay. _All _the time." Harry said, his voice weak from the embarrassment of admitting his feelings.

"I'm sorry." Her eyes moved to his shoes, making him believe her.

"I know." He said not getting angry at the cliché response. Pity, he knew. But pity was preferable to blame, at least in this case. "I won't stop, though."

"I can't tell you what to do, and I have no right to repeat what is said in here without your permission. You do what you must; but please, don't compromise yourself to get back at the world. They are only afraid; and you know what? A boy with a lying problem is a lot less formidable than the darkest wizard of all time. Who would _you_ choose to fight?" She finished with a sheepish smile.

Harry returned the smile. He did feel better. But his anger at the world remained; that was no excuse. He was only a boy still, and they were supposed to take care of him. The world that tricked him into finally trusting and opening his heart after years of making himself an icicle to survive the Dursleys, had betrayed him at the first sign of trouble. No, he wasn't _done_ with them yet.

/

"Ron."

"No." Ron said, stopping his friend before more madness could ensue.

"You don't even know what I was going to say." Harry said indignantly.

"Well I know there is no way it would have been anything I want to hear."

Harry pouted. "I was just going to say that I need a hug."

Ron blanched. "I was right. And no way am I going to hug you."

"I'm suffering sadness like gas right now and I need a hug." When this got no reaction Harry stepped closer and pouted. "Please? _No one ever loved me_…" He sniffed sadly.

"Oh for gods' sake! Fine!" He stood up and pressed his forearms over Harry's biceps—keeping his hands away—and let his friend squeeze tightly around his midsection. Ron tried a few times to move away but Harry held fast and the sobbing, which Ron didn't know was fake, made him reluctant to push Harry away.

Harry squeezed his arms tighter a couple times before mumbling something into Ron's chest.

"What was that?" Ron asked in a tight voice.

Harry lifted his head. "I said you're getting a bit pudgy—it's like hugging Santa!"

"Alright get off of me now." This time he did push Harry away.

"What? I meant it in a good way! All that toneless chunk is great for snuggles." Harry said chirpily.

Ron read through the lines on that one. "If I wake up and find you in my bed squeezing me—EVER, I will go straight for a teacher and have you kicked out of the dorm. Understand?"

Harry looked like a kick puppy.

"No! No, that face isn't going to work this time! Do you understand?" Ron asked sternly.

"Yeah, yeah fine. I won't climb in your bed for snuggles while you're sleeping." Harry promised reluctantly.

"Alright then." Ron said, satisfied.

What a fool was he to believe that nonsense.

/

A/n

I figured it would be interesting if the tone of the story fluctuated with his moods. It'll be just like reading the real Harry Potter books!

You remember how it goes:

yay Quidditch—Snape is mean—yay Hogwarts—everyone's hugging their parents, sniff—yay candy—everyone hates me this year—yay Christmas—no presents from the Durselys, sniff, it doesn't bother me, sniff-yay Cho—boo Voldemort—yay candy

J.K, give the boy a bottle (milk or voddie, either would work) and a nap for goodness sake.


	10. Planning

Planning

Harry was strangling Umbridge, Ron was stunned, but not surprised; it _had_ been only a matter of time. But then, wait…suddenly Harry turned into a giant snake of some kind. Oh no! The snake opened its mouth and out poured hundreds of live spiders. They were crawling toward him! He couldn't move! Suddenly the wind was knocked out of him, the dream vanished instantly, and his wide eyes took in the ceiling of his dorm.

"what—what did—huh b—what?" Ron sputtered. His body was stiff and jumpy from shock, so much so that he couldn't think straight.

"Shut up Ron! We have no time for your stupidity!" a voice said next to his ear.

_Ah, of course._ The weight on top of him should have made it obvious—light enough to be a girl, but of course no girl would ever choose to pounce on Ron. "Harry? What do you think you're doing?" He sounded alarmed and shaken he knew, but he was too groggy for anything else.

"Ron. My brain is laying an egg. We must tend to it now before it hatches and flies away before I can bond with it."

There was a long moment of silence. Neither could see the face of the other through the darkness. Ron pictured Harry's face as a maniacal grin and lopsided eyes; another option perhaps mouth twisted in some horrible half grin-half frown, eyes wide and glossy. But soon a snuggling face against his cheek assured him that Harry was only slightly smiling with his eyes closed—glasses on.

A complete lunatic on a spree of violence and murder would forget to put his glasses on, right?

"What the bloody hell could that possibly mean?" he finally asked, after his panic gave way to annoyance.

"Mmm," Harry hummed, nuzzling his face. _Dear god and mother and mercy, No!, _Ron thought. "It means I had a great idea and I need your and Hermione's help to plan it out." He said, thankfully having finished nuzzling. "Now, we have to figure out a way to get Hermione down to the common room, since my plan requires thinking and you're no help in that department."

"If I'm _so stupid _and can't help you, _why did you wake me up_?" Ron asked, annoyed.

"For emotional support of course, my love." Harry said romantically.

"Okay, it's now officially time to get off of me." He sat up, forcing Harry to back off a bit.

"DO YOU TWO MIND GETTING IT ON SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN OUR DORM ROOM!" Yelled a sleepy Irish voice from across the room.

"No, no, we weren't-" Ron started, but was cut off by Harry.

"Oops, sorry! Hormones and all that, you know how it is."

"Shut up, _everyone_!" This time it was Dean who yelled.

Ron sighed. "Let's just go." He said, resigned.

/

Luckily, there was a girl in the common room who could fetch Hermione for them.

"You with the female anatomy! Go up stairs and tell Hermione Granger that she is needed in the common room. Tell her it's an emergency, tell her it's only Ron and that Harry isn't there. Don't think you can just run up there away from me and ignore my request. If you do that will see to it personally that your soul rots in the most horrible pit of hell for all of eternity!" Harry yelled in the girl's face, hovering threateningly.

The girl's eyes shined with tears and she hastened to ascend the stairs.

"Harry! She was only a First Year!" Ron chastised.

Harry stood up straight and crossed his arms. "We do what needs to be done."

"Only that wasn't necessary at all."

"Shut your face. And back off a little you smell like aging bananas when you first wake up."

Before Ron could say anything else a tired-looking Hermione came down the stairs. Amazingly her hair didn't look any different than it usually did, her face was unchanged as will. She was apparently a graceful sleeper and this annoyed Harry, for when he first woke up his hair was skyward on one side and ridiculously flat on the other; that's not even mentioning the bags. _Oh the bags._

He smirked when she saw him.

She did not so much as blink upon seeing him. "Like I didn't know you'd be down here too." She said unimpressed.

Harry smacked his lips in annoyance. "Whatever. I need you to help me plan my vengeance against Dolores. My brain gave birth to a fantastical epiphany earlier and I need help nurturing it."

"Are you having some sort of maniac episode?" She asked.

"I don't think so. Probably. But that doesn't mean I should waste this amazing idea."

She sighed. "I suppose there's no stopping you. She _is_ an annoying idiot. What is your idea?"

Harry smiled deviously. "I'm going to ninja her glockenspiel." He said ominously.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Hermione was concerned, and Ron was confused as to what a _ninja _was.

"That doesn't mean something sexual, does it?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked affronted. "_No_! I'm not _that_ cruel! It means to destroy something innocent, something that only wants to make music. You know, it's the same kind of metaphor, or is it symbolism, as '_To Kill a Mockingbird'. _And you call yourself a bookworm,"

"I have never called-" Hermione started correct.

"We'll have time for semantics later. For now we need to plan. What does Umbridge like that is innocent?"

Hermione and Ron pondered. "Oh! The kittens!" Hermione answered after a moment.

Harry nodded his head slowly, evilly. "Yes, precisely."

"Harry, you can't hurt a kitten to punish Umbridge." Ron protested.

"I'm not _going _to. It's the kitten _plates_ I'm after. I think I ought to smash them all."

"Well, that will certainly annoy her; but Harry, she can just repair them with magic," said Ron in rare moment of sense.

"You're right. And besides, it's not _clever _enough. I need to show my devious side with this one. Oh, maybe I should replace the pictures of kittens with pictures of puppies. Yeah, _that's_ twisted, and unexpected. Wait no, I should put pictures of penises on the plates. No! I'll keep the plates as kittens, but I'll arrange all the plates in the shape of a giant penis. Yes, that's it!"

"Wow." Hermione said. "Is _that _what it's like inside your head?"

"I wish that was all that went on in my head. _I wish_." He said wistfully, getting lost in his head. He shook the weirdness off and got back to business.

"Hermione, I'm going to need you to research and teach me some really strong sticking spells so it will be hard for her to rearrange it. Or it might be better if you apply them yourself since everything I do beside the _Patronis _and _Experlliarmus _is weak and flimsy."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to encourage you in any way Harry."

Harry reached over and took her hand. "Don't think of it as helping me. Think if it as _hurting _Dolores."

That convinced her immediately. "Fine, I'll do it."

"Ron!" Harry yelled, making the dozing redhead jump. "Even your stupid brain can help us. You can distract Satan while we're violating her domain of evilness."

Ron looked confused again. Poor sod. "Eh?"

"Keep Umbridge busy while we're fixing the plates, can you do it?"

"I can yeah, I'll get Fred and George to help."

"Beautiful." Harry said giddily. Then something seemed to worry him. "Wait. Hermione we are going to be creating a penis, so I don't know if you'd choose not to have to look at it…or what?"

"Harry, I'm a fifteen year-old genius…I know what a penis looks like." She said as if it should have been obvious.

Harry grimaced. "Okay. Gross. Creepy. But okay, good."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm going back to bed. When exactly do you plan on doing this?"

"Within the week, I need time to observe her. Obviously we can't do it while she's teaching because she can see her office door. I'll have to think about it some more tonight."

"Aren't you going to sleep?" She asked, turning back from the stairs.

"Ha! As if I ever sleep. I haven't slept since Madame Pomfrey knocked me out with a sleeping potion a week ago." He said proudly.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Hermione asked herself, heading to the dormitory stairs.

"Then what do you do all night?" Ron foolishly asked.

"Mostly I sit in the wardrobe sobbing and hugging myself for comfort. Sometimes I curl up in the shower with the water running over me. If Seamus was particularly mean to me the day before I'll lick him some. If I'm not doing any of that I'm sitting on your bed watching you have nightmares or, you know—_not nightmares._" Harry said waggling his eyebrows.

"Are you serious?"

"Do I look like a prematurely aging haggard older gentleman? No, I'm Harry Potter."

"Oh that is so funny and original, Harry." He stood up and pointed at Harry. "Don't watch me sleep. And don't lick Seamus either, if not for his sake than for _yours_. Ew"

Harry thought about this. "Hmm. You have a point there cutey."

Ron made a disgusted face. "I'm going to sleep. I've had enough of you."

"Goodnight my love, see you in the morning darlin'."

"STOP!" Ron yelled. "It's not funny." He whined, climbing the stairs.

"No, but your reactions are hysterical!" Harry called after him.

"ARRRGH!"

"Hehehe." Harry allowed himself a sinister giggle before he settled himself and planned.


End file.
